


obloquy

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Future Fic, Kissing, Non-Explicit Sex, Not Canon Compliant, Open Relationships, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-03 23:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12157089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: But Yara was not here for Dany, not really, and they’d had this argument too many times for Yara to bash her head against this particular stone monument again. As Yara disembarked from the ship, she put all thought of Dany from her mind. If Dany wanted her opinion, she could ask for it.There were much, much better things for Yara to bash her head against.





	obloquy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Netgirl_y2k](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netgirl_y2k/gifts).



Even after all this time, King’s Landing smelled of shit and rotting meat, too warm with the press of a million bodies within the confines of its walls, too loud, too close. Yara wanted to hate it. The Iron Islands may have had its malodorous scents on occasion—the carcasses of dead creatures washed ashore could do that, same as the return of a ship long at sea—but the salt-flecked air scoured all things and there was room to breathe, to think, to live at least. Not like here. There was no respite here.

King’s Landing could have done with a good scouring was Yara’s thinking. Even from the bay, it offended her senses. From her perch near the helm, she wrinkled her nose, studied the ever-changing skyline of Queen Daenerys’s seat of power.

Reclamation efforts, she’d called it the last time Yara had asked about it. A fresh start for everyone.

Pissing on the ashes of her enemies more like. Tear down the Red Keep, melt down the Iron Throne, destroy the last, best symbols of old Westerosi power. That was what the queen had done. Commoners couldn’t give a fuck about thrones or keeps; they cared that a dragon could swoop down and light them ablaze with one word from Dany’s pretty, pouting lips.

They loved Dany because Dany did none of those things.

They would hate her if she ever did. _When_ she did, because Yara imagined it was inevitable.

Not so different from the old days.

But Yara was not here for Dany, not really, and they’d had this argument too many times for Yara to bash her head against this particular stone monument again. As Yara disembarked from the ship, she put all thought of Dany from her mind. If Dany wanted her opinion, she could ask for it.

There were much, much better things for Yara to bash her head against.

*

It used to be there was a brothel on every corner catering to every appetite and price range that a person could imagine and then some. Now, they had to get creative: keep things within Dany’s strict regulations while still keeping the customer happy. Yara found the change not a little exciting, though she wondered if Dany’s priorities weren’t a little skewed.

Still. Her favorite brothel remained standing and, from the fresh, bright color of its sign out front, continued to prosper. That was what mattered.

“She here?” Yara asked of a young, remarkably beautiful woman who did her best not to blush at Yara’s open admiration of her. She was good. Yara could almost believe the scrutiny actually embarrassed her.

“Your Highness,” she answered and that, that never got old. Whatever faults Yara found with Dany, she had upheld this most important piece of their accord. There wasn’t a person in Westeros who didn’t know of Yara Greyjoy, queen of the Iron Islands. And so there wasn’t a person in Westeros who didn’t know which ‘she’ Yara referred to because where the Kraken Queen went, so went her Dornish lover.

At least, that was what it seemed like.

A smile pulled at the corner of Yara’s mouth. Maybe just in the brothels.

But the truth was where her Dornish lover went, so went she because there was no telling Ellaria where to go or what to do. If Yara wanted her—and she did, as often as time and responsibility permitted—she played by Ellaria’s rules.

It was a very fine thing that Ellaria’s rules were flexible.

“This way, Your Highness,” the woman answered, turning gracefully to lead Yara up a set of twining steps, hardwood covered with a fine, woven carpet picked out in swirling reds and golds and the occasional green.

“What’s your name?” Yara called up to the woman as she tromped along behind the her, at her heels, her legs itching to eat up more distance than they were allowed. Talking gave Yara something to do while the seconds passed through each slow, tedious step.

“Myrah.”

“Well met, Myrah,” she answered as they reached the second floor.

Myrah turned her head, her hair flashing blue-black in the light from a window on the wall opposite. Yara knew this hallway well and she could easily guess where Ellaria had gone. They were both, in their way, predictable. Indecent wagers flitted through Yara’s mind. In what position would she find Ellaria? How many women and men would be in her company? How would she look?

Hunger clawed at Yara’s stomach. An ache spread through her chest. Dry hell, she missed Ellaria.

Yara’s hand grazed Myrah’s shoulder, calloused against the soft, lightly oiled skin of it. “I’ll take it from here,” she said, adopting the tone she used with her advisors when she wearied of their chatter. It was abrupt, if still respectful. It was not a tone she took to easily or well, but she’d had to learn. No, she’d _wanted_ to learn.

Being a ruler was about more than striking out with one’s fists and feet and iron and steel and ships and salt-sharp acids. Dany had taught her that even if she’d considered that belief naïve at best, deadly stupid at worst.

“She’s in room—”

Yara grinned. “I know which room she’s in, thank you.”

Myrah inclined her head. “Of course. Enjoy your stay.”

There was no need to say she would. That, she figured, was a given.

So she didn’t. Instead, she offered a jaunty wave, spinning away, and walked down the hall, unencumbered by Myrah’s more elegant gait slowing her down. Not that she minded, really, considering the view, but it _had_ been quite a while since last she and Ellaria had seen one another. She hadn’t been invaded by anyone as worthy as Ellaria since long before that.

Ellaria would laugh herself sick if she knew she’d all but ruined Yara for anyone else. Good thing Yara didn’t intend to tell her.

Mysteries and secrets kept it fun.

Arriving at her destination, she considered knocking on the door for the stretch of one moment before tossing it out and barging in. She was the queen of the Iron Islands. She could go wherever she pleased. And she was very, very pleased to go here.

Moans greeted her, grinding and deep. Silver-grey fabrics pooled and draped themselves around Ellaria’s legs and the shoulders of the woman knelt between them. Gauzy, delicate netting surrounded the bed, forming a hazy aura around the pair of them.

Neither the woman nor Ellaria paid her any mind.

Yara grinned and stomped her foot. Clearing her throat was probably overkill, but she did it anyway. “Starting without me, huh?”

“Always, darling,” Ellaria replied, pushing her hand through the loose curls of her hair. It had grown a little in Yara’s absence and Yara’s fingers itched to tangle in them the way Ellaria did to herself. “This is what happens when you neglect your lover.”

Yara stepped forward, her boots loud against the carpeted floor. “Perhaps I should neglect you more often.”

Even through the netting, Ellaria’s smile radiated pleasure. “Perhaps you should.”

“As much as I would like to do just that…” Yara shifted slightly, turning her body toward the door. “…our queen demands our presence.”

Her lips tugging down in a frown, Ellaria scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Our queen is a tyrant as much as Cersei Lannister was.” Despite her words, she pressed her fingers to the woman’s chin and tipped her head up. That she could joke about Cersei Lannister of all people was a testament to her strength and resilience. Perhaps revenge allowed people that luxury. Or maybe it was just Ellaria’s personality. “Another time, dearest. Though she is not my queen, duty calls nevertheless.”

The fabric pulled, shimmering like moon glint on calm seas, as the woman leaned away and rose smoothly to her feet, wrapping the silk around her hips and pulling one corner up to cover her breasts. She smiled at Yara, mouth curling suggestively, and made a dignified exit.

If only there was time.

If only Yara’s crew had gotten her here sooner.

Stretching to reach for a robe half-thrown off the bed exposed the soft, flat planes of Ellaria’s stomach, warm brown and enticing and an utterly unfair display all around. Possibly she did it on purpose and possibly that was just Ellaria being Ellaria. Mysteries and secrets again. They do so make the world go ‘round. And just this once, in the best possible way.

Her robe sparked gold in the flickering flame of the candle, the thread catching the light. Tying the sash around her waist, she rose, smiling. “Shall we scandalize Queen Daenerys’s court?”

As soon as she was within reach, Yara grabbed hold of her, pulling her close. Against her lips, she said, “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

“There are a few things I can think of,” Ellaria replied, her smile turning playful as she pressed a kiss against Yara’s mouth. Deep and probing as it was, Yara couldn’t help but consider the possibility that trying out a few of those ‘things’ would be worth courting Dany’s disappointment and disapproval. “But I always was a little more creative than you.”

Yara smirked at that. “I’ve done well enough for myself, I think, if I’ve captured your attention.”

Ellaria’s eyebrow arched high on her forehead. “I suppose you are right enough at that.” She beckoned with slim, elegant fingers. “Come, you’ll just have to make up for the your interruption later. It is a good thing Lialah’s tongue is so talented.”

Never quite sure whether Ellaria wanted her to be jealous or not, Yara tugged at Ellaria’s sash. It was tied too tightly to give way easily, but it brought her closer to Yara, which is all she wanted anyway.

“I’m sure I can do that,” she said into Ellaria’s ear, kissing and biting playfully at the lobe.

Something to look forward to, then. Yara was pleased.

*

The lords and ladies of Dany’s court stood in tight clumps around one another, brightly adorned and intent to speak with anyone who might help them advance their cause or enhance their power. Several turned hungry eyes to the queen of Westeros herself and Yara couldn’t rightly determine if it was because they found her so beautiful or because they wanted to bend her ear and increase their standing. Perhaps both. Or perhaps neither. Occasionally, a lord or lady could surprise you.

And sometimes, they merely met already low expectations for behavior and decorum.

That was to say: no one spoke to Yara with anything less than perfect, pleasant respect. And nearly all of them kept their disdain for her from their eyes. Even when she arrived wearing graying, scratched up leather and boots caked with mud and salt, they pretended she was attired as regally as Queen Daenerys herself, who coasted through the crowded assembly hall in heavily embroidered white. It matched her hair and made her seem almost to glow in the light from myriad candles.

That carefully concealed disdain only made it all the sweeter when Dany approached her rather than the other way around. “Well met, Yara,” she said, quiet, pleased, her mouth stretching in a joyful smile. She’d taken to rule here with ease; given the hardships which had led her here, Yara would have expected it to be a more painful transition than it proved itself to be. Dany turned her attention to Ellaria and carefully refrained from glancing down at their hands twined together. “A pleasure as always, Ellaria.”

Ellaria inclined her head. “It is an honor, of course, your Grace.”

Dany’s mouth twitched and something akin to a mischievous warning glinted in her eyes. “Oh, of course.”

The skin on the back of Yara’s neck tightened and tingled, the hairs standing on end. People were watching and only a portion of the scrutiny was due to Dany’s interest in them. This happened every time and, like always, Yara merely gritted her teeth and smiled all the wider.

 _Let them stare_ , Yara thought, wrapping her fingers more tightly around Ellaria’s. Yes, a bastard of Dorne was now Dorne’s rightful leader. And yes, a salt islander ruled an independent nation to the north, something most of Westeros couldn’t claim for its own lands. _Fuck them_.

Ellaria grinned in turn, an equally vicious display that sent warmth flooding again through Yara’s body. This was why they were together, why they worked together so well.

Yara leaned toward her, winked, and captured Ellaria’s lips with her own

A small, almost silent gasp issued from some noble or other.

Ellaria huffed against her mouth.

This would, Yara thought, turn out to be a better trip to King’s Landing than she’d originally thought.


End file.
